


Home is Where the Heart is

by stumphclub



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Soul Punk - Patrick Stump (Album)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Married Couple, Peterick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:49:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26198884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stumphclub/pseuds/stumphclub
Summary: Pete Wentz hates his job (god damn Gabe Saporta, god damn Brendon Urie!), but the family he comes home to each day kind of helps. Kind of helps as in, helps a lot.
Relationships: Patrick Stump & Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12
Collections: Peterick Fic Recs - tumblr list, Peterick Fluff





	Home is Where the Heart is

**Author's Note:**

> Old Bandom fluff I wrote in 2013 and found to not be lost. More to come lmao, enjoy :')

Pete hated his job. He hated his co-workers. He hated his boss. Fucking Gabe Saporta. Fucking Brendon Urie. Fucking Ryan Ross and his smart ass remarks. Fucking _fuck_. Fuck _everyone!_ Today was one of those days. _“Oh, Pete! We want a new song written!” “Oh Pete, we need you to do another remix!” “Pete, fucking fix the new guy’s mess! Teach the kid how to work this out!” Blah blah blah **blah!** Bitch bitch bitch bitch!_ He was so fucking fed _up_ with these halfwits. He had better things to do than pick up everyone else’s messes. God _dammit._

But work was over. He was finished listening to whining and complaining for another day. It didn’t help his mood though; didn’t make him feel any better. He was still storming around when he stomped out of work, lightening on the verge of manifesting above his head in response to his mood. And still, he was seething, clenching the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white for the duration of the drive home. He continued to fume as he walked up the stepping stones to his house. But then he opened the door. To his family.

Hemmingway came first; the cute little English Bulldog came barreling through the hall and bounding down the steps, slobbering and skidding his way to Pete. He bounced up and put his paws on Pete’s thighs, barking, _Welcome home, Pete!_

Pete looked down at him. He was so, so tempted to push Hemmingway off of him and say harshly, _‘Not today, god damn.’_ but realized that his dog hadn’t done anything wrong and didn’t deserve it. Taking a different approach to things, Pete smiled a little and reached down to pet his dog’s head, receiving loving nuzzles. He smiled more. 'Hey, boy. I missed you.’ He closed the door, heading up the stairs, his Bulldog trotting along behind him. He was starting to feel better already. 

Second come his son. 'Bronx,’ He smiled and said warmly. 

'Daddy!’ Bronx giggled and ran up to Pete, hugging his leg. He was all too adorable. 'Daddy made soup!’ Bronx _loved_ soup. He loved the different flavours, and the different colours, and all the different things you could put in the broth. He couldn’t find one thing he didn’t love about soup, and if that’s what they were having for dinner, he was sure to be the first to excitedly announce it.

'Really?’ Pete grinned, scooping Bronx up and resting him on his hip, 'Was that your choice?’

'Yeah!’ he laughed, and wrapped his arms around Pete’s neck, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

'Well,’ Pete said enthusiastically, 'I can’t wait!' 

He carried Bronx into the kitchen. He loved Bronx so much. Even when he had a day like this, his son seemed to wash away the layers of emotional grime that the work day left.

Pete gently set Bronx down in the kitchen doorway. He quietly entered the kitchen, a warm smile on his face. 'Patrick,’ He said quietly, striding up to him, 'I’m home.’ The thing about Pete’s wife (husband/partner, but ultimately the inside joke won out), was that he never looked.. not good. He was always glowing. He was always cheerful. He was always extraordinarily beautiful; inside and out. And Pete had always been in love with him. 

Patrick turned around, as beautiful as ever, and cute too. That damn apron got him every time; he didn't _have_ to wear it, but _'It’s a cute accessory!’_ he’d always say, grinning and twirling to make the apron spin. 

Patrick gently wrapped his arms around Pete’s neck, leaning up to kiss him softly. 'Hey,’ He whispered against his lips, 'I’ve been waiting for you all day. I missed you, and I made your favourite soup.' 

Pete grinned, locking his hands behind Patrick’s back, pressing his lips gently back against his lover’s. 'I missed you too.’ He whispered, 'I wish I could just stay home with you. My job sucks,’ he chuckled a little against him, tightening his arms around his waist.

'Why?’ Patrick cocked an eyebrow, 'Did you have a bad day?’

'Just _dreadful_ ,’ Pete said, but then added, 'But now I’m with my family. I’m alright.’ He smiled.

But that wasn’t enough, oh no. Patrick looked determined. He pulled away and went to Bronx. He bent down and whispered something in his ear. Whatever it was, Bronx’s eyes widened and he looked from Pete to Patrick to Pete, and then back to Patrick. A smile slowly spread across his face. He giggled, turned, and scampered away, running up the stairs, trying to hard not to trip on the way up, and eventually left them alone. That melted Pete’s heart too, and he smiled more before watching Patrick curiously.

Patrick walked over to Pete and took his hand. He led him to the living room. He sat him down, and then he curled up beside him, apron, smile, and all. 'We can have soup later.’ He whispered, and then he gently kissed him. He had to make sure Pete was okay, and it seemed that his kisses had always done the trick, no matter what. It was like when Patrick kissed Bronx’s boo-boos. Real magic.

Pete seemed surprised at first, but he smiled and kissed him back. He gently enveloped him into his arms and held him close, and he kissed him softly and gently, as passionate as a man can get. 

Patrick curled up in his lap, arms linking around his neck. He kissed Pete until they needed breath. And more after that. And then again. And when they couldn’t kiss anymore, Patrick curled up more, pressing his face into his chest, his head fitting under his chin. Pete’s strong arms wrapped around him. 'Do you feel better?’ Patrick asked, not at all worried about the soup.

'I do.’ Pete smiled, happening to glance over. He caught a grinning, peeping Bronx, who hid around the corner once he was noticed. He chuckled, 'You can join too, buddy.' 

His little head popped out from around the corner again, and Patrick giggled delightedly. 'Daddy’s right.’

'Okay!’ Bronx giggled too, heading right down the steps and to his parents. He hopped onto the couch and let them wrap their arms around him. He beamed, not minding being squished between the two. He couldn’t have better parents.

'I love you guys,’ Pete said, just as Hemmingway curled up next to them on the couch. 

Hemmingway barked, _Love ya right back!_

Bronx giggled, 'I love you too, daddy!’

And Patrick kissed Pete gently, 'I love you too.’ He whispered.


End file.
